


once upon a december

by stellahibernis



Series: an approximation of domesticity [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, bucky is stalling, somehow they manage to get their shit together, steve should probably be more pushy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6861181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“There’s not enough winter on the outside for you, got to drag it in here as well?” Bucky says, just to break the silence. Steve is putting away his paints and cleaning his brushes, his eyes never leaving Bucky.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Guess it was that kind of a day,” Steve says, and Bucky knows how much it acknowledges. Steve never likes to even hint that he’s less than perfectly fine, but Bucky knows that winter has never really had any positive associations for Steve.</i>
</p><p>Bucky finally visits Steve's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	once upon a december

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same verse as _not one single further sorrow_ , although before it. This is aimed to be fully canon compliant, set at some point in the future where things are just fine (whatever comic book miracles we need to get there). No crises, no fighting among friends, nothing majorly awful. There's a reason why I call this my therapy verse... All fics will be similar to the two finished ones in that they're fully set in their apartment and they will be slice of life type of things, not plotty. Domestic but probably not quite tooth rotting fluff department, I don't seem to ever quite get there :D The boys are happy though, always.
> 
> As I mentioned, this is canon compliant and thus has some extremely vague references to Captain America: Civil War, but no real plot spoilers.

Bucky’s never been to Steve’s apartment.

He knows it sounds unbelievable, so much so that most people actually don’t even consider the possibility. They just assume that he’s been there, even if they’ve never seen him. Because why wouldn’t he have visited? He’s Steve’s friend, has been ever since almost a century ago, even if there is a period of almost seven decades he didn’t remember it. Considering it had been a result of continuous memory erasure, brainwashing and conditioning, he thinks he might deserve a pass for that. He knows Steve certainly thinks so. He himself thinks so most of the days. Not all.

These days he would walk through hell for Steve, again, without even blinking. He still watches Steve’s back, snarks at him over the coms only to have Steve reply in kind, holds easy conversation and steals Steve’s coffee whenever they have breakfast together in some out of the way diner. He sometimes finds himself having fallen asleep leaning on Steve’s shoulder on a way back from a mission, when they’re all just dozing on a quinjet. It’s starting to be easy again, being with Steve.

Yet, he’s never been to Steve’s apartment. Sam marvels at him how Steve’s managed to find a firm mattress for the guestroom bed, and remarks it must be comfortable even for Bucky despite the added weight of the arm and everything else. Nat tells him to try some tea she keeps in Steve’s pantry for the times she visits. Wanda mentions Steve’s paintings. All of them keep making little remarks like that, and he knows nothing about it, even if it all feels like Steve. Worst of all, he’s not quite sure whether they say these things because they expect he visits, or because they’re trying to remind him he should. When it comes to Nat, he’s fairly sure she knows exactly what he’s done, or more precisely what he hasn’t done.

It’s not for a lack of invitation that he’s never visited. Steve told him when he bought the old factory, talked about renovating a part of it into an apartment in between missions. Steve mentions about his plans when they see each other, texts him about his free days or gatherings among the Avengers there, and somehow manages to not sound like he’s expecting something out of Bucky. Manages to sound like he’s not disappointed that Bucky never shows up.

It’s probably the best lying Steve’s ever done.

In all honesty, Bucky knows it’s ridiculous that he’s avoided going there, but that’s how it’s happened none the less. He doesn’t even know why, not in a way that he could put it into words. There’s just the feeling that something will unavoidably be different after he takes the step, and so he’s staying away. He doesn’t want things to be different, not now when things are approximately fine after decades of decidedly not.

He’s free, and no one’s after him, no more than going along with the Avengers warrants. Which sometimes means there are definitely people out for his blood, but it comes through the work, doing the right thing instead of it happening because of what he did with HYDRA. And for now things have seemingly quieted down; there are regular HYDRA hideouts to clear and the occasional mad scientist, but no major world ending incidents. There are no more traps, no more triggers in his head that he needs to fear. Only your regular trauma and PTSD, and he’s truthfully dealing. He gets along with the Avengers, counts many of them as friends. He’ll never admit it to Sam, but he’s one of that group. So is Wanda. Even Tony doesn’t hate him. They’re not quite comfortable with each other, might never be, but they can work together. It’s more than Bucky ever hoped for.

He has a place of his own, he talks to his neighbors, he’s making a dent into the pile of books he has stacked on his coffee table. He has opinions on all the different types of take out food he can get within ten minutes’ walk from his place. And things are getting natural again with Steve, which is a relief, like light and warmth enveloping him. So no, he really doesn’t want things to change. Doesn’t want to break the equilibrium.

He also knows it cannot last, because he himself is driving a wedge into it. He knows that Steve will not be able to pretend not to be hurt by his avoidance forever. He also knows Steve will try, will give him space forever if he wants it, regardless of how how it makes Steve feel. And Bucky still would walk through hell for Steve. Not making Steve hurt by his actions should be of no consequence.

If only life and people were that simple.

It’s an uncommonly cold and clear day for December, the temperatures well below freezing and the sun a pale source of only light but not warmth in the sky. It’s mid afternoon, and he’s finally worked up his courage to make the trip to Brooklyn. He decided on the day in advance, and kept pacing up and down in his apartment for the whole morning, making excuse after excuse until he got disgusted with himself, threw his coat on and marched out before he could change his mind. He knows it would have been so much easier if he just had gone on the day Steve was first mapping out the building and had asked if Bucky wanted to come and see it.

He buys a bag of pastries to bring with him because it feels like it’s something he should do, and finally there are no more excuses for stalling. The wind picks up as he gets nearer, and he shivers, thinking he should have worn another sweater under his coat. He has a complicated relationship with cold; in Brooklyn before the war it was a threat to Steve’s fragile health, a fear settled inside him through each winter. In the war it was the source of a lot of misery, and then there was the final sharp fall through freezing air and a plunge into icy river that he’d thought would end him, but hadn’t. Later, it had meant a shot of pain, and the automatic panic that comes when your life is chased away by the flash freezing, but he had also welcomed it. It had been emptiness, but not the kind that came with the forced compliance and the machine. There had been a peace. Later still, there had been safety. For him, as well as others.

He remembers all the cold he’s experienced when the snow begins to fall, sticking to his eyelashes and settling on his shoulders. When he finally comes to Steve’s building, he’s grateful at the thought of shelter, the earlier jitters momentarily chased away.

On the outside the building doesn’t look like much, but the brickwork is still solid, and his trained eye notes that there’s a fairly complicated security system rigged up, sealing every window and door. There’s no doorbell, but the electronic lock flashes green immediately and the door opens when he pulls at the handle. 

Nobody’s clearly living at the bottom level, and Steve hasn’t gotten around to doing much about it except to clear a space for his motorcycle. Bucky picks his way to the freight elevator that’s probably original to the building, but it has clearly been maintenanced. On the upper floor there’s just a hallway with doors, all open to empty rooms except for the one at the very end. In front of it is a doormat so hideous it must have been a gift. Bucky can’t quite decide whether it’s from Clint or Sam.

The door is not locked, and Bucky steps in. There are no lights on anywhere even though the late afternoon snow means the shadows are deep. He’d think no one was home, except the boots Steve wears all the time when he’s out are kicked in the corner by the door. He sheds his coat and takes in the place. There is a large open space where one corner is set to be a living room space, another has a big dining table, and there’s also the kitchen, separated by a bar from the living space. There’s a doorway towards north, probably leading to the bedrooms and such, and another towards south. Bucky remembers seeing some new big windows at that corner from the outside, and heads that way.

He guessed correctly, there’s a big airy room set up as a studio. There are shelves and tables stacked with supplies, canvasses leaning to the walls, and two easels. Steve is standing in front of one of them, paintbrush hanging loosely in one hand, clearly deep in thought. He hasn’t noticed Bucky at all, which would be weird if Bucky didn’t still move completely silently by nature.

There are no lights on in the studio either, which means Steve must have been lost in his thoughts for a while now, since it’s already too dark to paint. Bucky doesn’t really like how Steve is right then, tense and vague, gone in his head. He finds a light switch and the room is flooded with bright and warm light. Steve turns on his feet fast, surprised and even more tense, but it only lasts a second before his face lights up as he sees Bucky.

“Hi Buck, nice of you to drop by,” Steve says, and Bucky’s actually surprised there’s no bite to it, since Steve does rather have a reason to be hurt by his absence. He just sounds happy, with a hint of relief that does nothing to alleviate the guilt Bucky feels.

To distract himself, Bucky looks at the painting on the easel and is stopped by the familiarity of it, even if it’s like nothing he’s seen before. When sketching, Steve tends towards realism, but his paintings have always been more abstract unless he was working on a commission. This one is no exception, there’s a hint of a landscape, nothing specific, and yet it’s something Bucky recognizes in his bones. The great winter wastelands, the icy wind of Siberia. It makes him feel uneasy, not the least because of the beauty Steve has somehow captured in it. Beauty that somehow contrasts with the sinister tones underneath. Bucky wonders if he just imagines those, due to his memories, but decides he probably doesn’t. It’s not a happy place for Steve either.

“There’s not enough winter on the outside for you, got to drag it in here as well?” Bucky says, just to break the silence. Steve is putting away his paints and cleaning his brushes, his eyes never leaving Bucky.

“Guess it was that kind of a day,” Steve says, and Bucky knows how much it acknowledges. Steve never likes to even hint that he’s less than perfectly fine, but Bucky knows that winter has never really had any positive associations for Steve. “I’ve got others you’ll probably like better, I’ll show you later. Did you eat yet, I’m suddenly ravenous.”

Bucky’s not surprised, considering Steve had clearly lost the track of time before dusk fell. He probably hasn’t eaten since breakfast, which is a long time for the kind of metabolism they have. Bucky just lifts the bag of pastries in reply, and follows Steve back into the kitchen.

Steve makes them sandwiches and Bucky sets the table, mostly finding everything he needs without directions. He puts the coffee on and notes the bag of tea Nat had mentioned. Steve has a few neutral coffee mugs and a lot more with humorous captions and pictures on them, probably gifts as well. The one in front has the common  _ Keep calm and carry on _ -text, and Bucky suspects it’s some sort of personal reminder. The one he ends up picking for Steve says,  _ My patriotism brings all the boys to the yard _ . He wonders who gave it to Steve, not to mention how it was meant to be interpreted.

Steve snorts when he sees the mug, but there is a sudden faint flush on his cheeks and he doesn’t quite look at Bucky in the eye when he ducks past him to reach into the cupboard for another mug that says,  _ This coffee tastes like I don’t even want to stab you _ . 

“This was meant for you,” Steve says and adds, “Nat got them.” So there’s the answer to the question Bucky had. And well, it’s not exactly a secret that Bucky is cranky without his coffee, but it only happens in the mornings. Not like he’s spent any at Steve’s place.

While they eat Bucky asks about Steve’s security system, suddenly remembering how he got inside apparently automatically. “I thought at first you’d seen me and let me in, but obviously not,” he says.

“Yeah, Tony made it. It’s coded to recognize people and react to them as I want. It ignores people I don’t know unless they get aggressive.”

“And it just opens the doors to anyone you do know, so that they can walk in?” Bucky asks, because even if Steve cares about the Avengers, it still seems like giving up more privacy than he appears to be comfortable with.

“No, not everyone. Usually it just alerts me if anyone is at the door, although if I know beforehand someone is coming I just have it let them in without asking.”

“It did that to me.”

“Yeah, you’re on default to be let in straight away,” Steve says, suddenly finding his sandwich very interesting.

Bucky’s stomach clenches, and he wants to feel guilty again, but it won’t help. It has taken him time, time that he needed, but now he’s here. Miraculously, they still seem to be fine, Steve not carrying a grudge. It’s been like that ever since they met again while Bucky was still under HYDRA’s power. Steve hasn’t always gone easy on him, Bucky knows Steve did consider the possibility that he might have been too far gone to help. That had been for the world in general. When it comes to things that are only about Steve, he has been endlessly accommodating, not caring about his own feelings. Sometimes Bucky wishes Steve would just call him out on it, be angry. It would be easier that grappling with the idea that somehow Steve thinks Bucky deserves a friend like that, someone who’s seemingly infinitely patient. Sometimes Bucky wonders what reserves Steve dips into to find the patience, since it’s never been his strongest suit. Sometimes he’s just grateful that this is his reality.

They eat, refill their coffee mugs and move to living room settling at the opposite ends of the couch. They talk about the Avengers, reminisce a little, discuss sports and their favorite tv shows. It’s easy, in a way it was with Steve back in time, even though most things have now changed. This is something that has come back, has won over the trauma and wariness and guilt. 

Later Bucky won’t be able to remember what it was that he said, because it doesn’t matter. What matters is that his words surprise a laugh out of Steve, full bodied and so sudden that he nearly knocks his coffee mug over. Bucky flashes hot and cold. 

It’s the most relaxed he’s seen Steve since before the war. Now that he’s here, he suddenly realises that even though the serum gave Steve poise and grace, part of it always was due to concentration, and he’s never seen Steve without it, hasn’t seen Steve that relaxed until now. Not even in a safe environment with their friends. There always was a part of Steve that stayed alert, guarding him. Now that it’s gone, the difference is so obvious that Bucky almost wonders he never saw it before.

It makes him like Steve’s place all the more, and he already did before, because it felt like Steve. Now it’s obvious that Steve has finally,  _ finally _ , managed to carve a place for himself that is truly a home and not just a place he’s staying at. A place where he’s completely at ease and can let down that last bit of concentration, last bit of defence. Bucky is happy for that. He’s also slightly overwhelmed by the implication that he has an unrestricted access to this space. Because it really is the show of utmost trust, one that he can only try and earn. A lot of days he doesn’t think he’s doing very good job at it.

Other days he remembers a conversation he once had with Steve in Wakanda, where he’d suggested for the second time he wasn’t worth all the trust and effort Steve put in him. Steve had simply said that for him Bucky was worth it, as he was. It was his decision. 

Bucky knows Steve isn’t blind to what he is and what he isn’t. After all Steve has, and still does give him hard time when occasion calls for it. He’s not clinging to what they had before the war, but sees the whole of Bucky’s journey. Somehow, knowing it all, good and bad, Steve has still decided to put his trust on Bucky. Maybe it is time he accepts it.

There is another thing that flashes through him when Steve laughs. It’s like puzzle pieces clicking in place all on their own; he suddenly  _ knows _ something that’s been there all along, only held at arm’s length because it was too overwhelming. It’s a simple thought,  _ I would do anything for you _ , that comes unbidden when he sees Steve’s eyes crinkle and head fall back against the couch, whole body loose and comfortable. It’s something that has been more or less true ever since he met Steve when they were children. Outside the seventy years he spent brainwashed, and even that is debatable, considering how it had finally ended.

Now it just means more than it ever did. There are the familiar things.  _ I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. _ There are things Bucky from before the war would have recoiled from.  _ I would burn the world down for you. I would kill, hurt, maim anyone and everyone who even thinks of being a threat to you. _ And then there’s something that’s been growing inside him these last few years. _ I want you to touch me. I want everything you can give. I want your heart and soul, so that I can keep them safe. _ He thinks the last want is selfish, but he does want it anyway.

Because in the end, it isn’t a matter of what he wants, not when he’ll settle for anything Steve has to give. It is a matter of what Steve wants, and the problem is that Steve is still too careful of communicating his desire. Of asking for too much of Bucky. Steve doesn’t know that whatever it is he wants already is his, at least as far as Bucky is concerned.

And there it is, in that one moment when Steve laughs next to him, Bucky finally admits all of it to himself. He hasn’t been ready before, has avoided taking the step, because admitting it would put him in a place where he could suffer a heartbreak. It would be easier to just keep it all at a distance, stay where it is easy to be satisfied to just be Steve’s friend. Then again, it would also mean that there was never a chance for anything more. Furthermore, he owes himself honesty when it comes to Steve, who’s been there for him every chance he had. Bucky doesn’t want to dilute its meaning.

The knowledge is there, floating around him when he tries to get back on track with the conversation. Steve keeps smiling, teases him for spacing out, and it’s still easy. Outside the evening grows darker and now that Bucky is here, he never wants to leave.

Somehow the discussion makes it back to Steve’s paintings, and he gets up saying, “Oh, I said I had something else besides the winter landscapes, want to come and see?”

Maybe Bucky is still reeling from the earlier epiphany, because he replies, “You’re asking if I want to come?” Right after he almost regrets it, but there’s no taking in back. Nor does he want to, not really.

Steve goes through ten different expressions in the next few seconds, and Bucky tries to find some of the pre-war bravado he had, just to keep uncertainty from his eyes. A moment of confusion hits Steve first, replaced by widening eyes when he realises exactly what Bucky said, and then he flashes red, then pale and again blushes red when he sits back down on the couch. His eyes are huge and wondering when he asks, voice slightly breathless, “Is that what you want?”

It’s not a no, and in fact Steve seems rather enthralled by the idea, which makes Bucky decide to push a little, because he knows Steve won’t. Not now, not before he is sure. He sets his coffee mug down and swings his leg over Steve’s, neatly straddling his hips, leaning in close when Steve settles against the cushions. Steve’s breathing picks up, but it’s not panicked and when Bucky settles his hands on Steve’s shoulders, Steve’s come to rest on his waist. 

This is the moment of truth, perhaps the most crucial of them all, and Bucky lets down all the careful guards he keeps, lets the truth show in his eyes when he answers Steve’s question. “Yes. But only if you want. Whatever you want, because I’m up for everything.”

Bucky’s not sure if what he said even makes sense, but Steve has always been good at reading him, understanding the real meaning behind the words. Bucky tries to show him now, and Steve seems to get it. In any case, Steve suddenly smiles, a flash of brilliance that has barely any time to register for Bucky before Steve hauls him forward and mashes their lips together.

It’s a perfect kiss, maybe not in any technical level, because they are both just desperate and in a hurry and their noses bump. But it’s Steve, and so it’s everything Bucky wants. He settles a bit closer, shifts one hand behind Steve’s neck for leverage and runs the other down Steve’s chest, revelling in the shiver it earns him. Steve tangles his fingers in Bucky’s long hair and slips the other under Bucky’s shirt, palm almost hot against his side. They kiss for a while and then Steve moves away a bit, only to rest his forehead against Bucky’s and says, “Everything sounds just perfect.”

It startles a laugh out of Bucky, all the uncertainty falling out of him like a weight, the knowledge that he can have this, that Steve wants it as much as he does envelopes him with warmth. Steve grins with his eyes shining, and Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve so happy. It’s almost difficult to look at, it’s too much, and he does the only thing he can think to divert it. He runs his hand across Steve’s chest again and grinds their hips together, and is rewarded with the sight of Steve’s eyes falling closed, his fingers digging into Bucky’s skin. He rather regrets he doesn’t bruise easily these days, because he would love to see the marks from Steve’s fingertips on his side later, just as a proof that it really happened.

They get rid of their shirts, and Bucky has a moment of self consciousness about the scars, except Steve bends his head and kisses his way along Bucky’s shoulder where skin meets metal. For a moment Bucky stays still, heart racing, fingers digging in Steve’s skin, and it really is too much to feel so loved so suddenly. He gently lifts Steve’s head and kisses him while shifting so that he can get his hands between them to undo the buttons on Steve’s jeans. Steve is already straining against the fabric, and breaths out a sudden curse when Bucky slips his hand in his boxers. 

Bucky smiles against Steve’s lips before he shoves Steve’s legs apart and kneels in between them working Steve’s dick free and wrapping his fingers around it. Steve, apparently a smart mouth even aroused, says, “I thought the plan was to make you come.”

Bucky squeezes a bit, getting another shuddering breath out of Steve and says, “Plenty of time for that. I’m going to see if I can make you forget how to make smart comments first.” Before Steve has time to reply, Bucky takes him in his mouth.

Steve keeps looking at him, breathing ragged, eyes dark and intent while Bucky moves his head. It’s something Bucky hadn’t expected, how he would react to Steve watching him. His skin tingles, and all he wants is to push Steve over the edge, so he ups his pace and Steve’s head falls back and a moan escapes his lips. It feels like a victory, to get Steve loosen up so much. In a moment Steve tugs at Bucky’s hair but he just hums in acknowledgement and doesn’t stop. Steve grips Bucky’s hair when he comes, and it’s almost painful, but all it does is go into Bucky’s head.

Steve pulls him up into a kiss and works his jeans open, Bucky breathing in almost relief when the restricting fabric is pushed away. Steve’s hands feel warm even against his fever hot skin, and Bucky pushes closer and lets his head fall against Steve’s shoulder when Steve’s fingers finally wrap around him. It doesn’t take Bucky long with Steve’s deft had working him, other hand firm on his hip keeping him in place, lips brushing against Bucky’s neck. 

After Bucky’s come down from his orgasm Steve grabs his shirt and wipes the come of their skin. They shed their jeans and boxers that were halfway gone anyway, and settle on the couch under a blanket, Bucky mostly on top of Steve, Steve’s arms wrapped around Bucky almost too tight, as if he’s still afraid Bucky is going to disappear. He isn’t, Bucky thinks almost rebelliously. Steve will have to throw him out to get rid of him now. 

After a while Bucky asks, because it still feels too good to be true, “What  _ do _ you want, Steve?”

Steve seems to get what he means, because he runs his hand soothingly down Bucky’s back. “I want to just stay here for a while,” he says, voice so low that Bucky almost feels it more than hears. “Then I want to maybe have a bath with you, and go to sleep next to you, because then the bed won’t feel too big. I want to do that every night. I want to wake up and do this again and have breakfast together. Whatever we want. I meant it when I said everything. Oh, and I want to show you my paintings so you can play at being an art critic, but probably after your morning coffee so that there’s no risk of anyone getting stabbed.” 

Steve tugs at Bucky’s hair a bit, and it’s a joke of course, but somehow right then it cuts a bit too close, even if Bucky knows the next morning he’ll secretly delight in using the mug. He rises and rests on his forearm to look at Steve who smiles like the sun at him. 

“I’d never actually stab you though, you know that right, Steve?”

It comes out maybe too serious, but then again, it’s something that has actually happened, and Steve clearly gets where he’s coming from. He’s instantly serious, but more than that, Bucky can see all the trust that Steve has, that he really means it when he says, “I  _ know _ .”

Satisfied, Bucky lets Steve pull him back down to rest on him, and they both drift away soon after. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky will never find out whether the guest room bed is comfortable or not.
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/).


End file.
